


Straight to Hell

by MaurianasRavenholdt



Series: The Collector [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman - Fandom, Dick Grayson - Fandom, Grayson - Fandom, Nightwing (Comics), Nightwing - Fandom, Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Based on Real Events, Butcher of Kansas City, Carl Panzram, Comfort, F/M, Human Experimentation, Hurt, M/M, Mad Scientist, Medical Trauma, PTSD, Revenge, Robert Berdella, Serial Killer, Torture, Trauma, Whatcanon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-17 07:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20617001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaurianasRavenholdt/pseuds/MaurianasRavenholdt
Summary: Sequel to “Little Pieces Bleeding Through” and completion to “The Collector” trilogy.It’s been a year and a half and the Batfamily has made progress healing and moving on, but familiar evils still plague them. Can Nightwing conquer the demons of his past in time to save more innocents?





	1. Echoes

“You’re too slow. More weight on your back leg.”

Jason ignored the advice completely, brandishing the bo staff high over his head and charging forward with a roar. Exploiting the opening, Dick went low, landing two softened blows to the boy’s midsection, then one to the back, just hard enough to send him sprawling to the floor. 

“Man, fuck this!”  
Jason jumped to his feet and slammed the weapon down in frustration. “This is bullshit!”

“I agree, we’ve been at this for an hour and you haven’t hit me, once.” Dick shook his head. 

_What the hell was Bruce thinking with this one?_

“How am I supposed to hit you if you won’t stay still?” Jason was panting, overextended. Angry. 

Rolling his eyes, Dick sighed, “I _really_ hope that was a rhetorical question.” He turned away, “We’re done for today. I think Bruce has some forensics stuff he wants you to do, anyway.”

Jason snatched up the staff and took a final swing, but Dick had anticipated the kid would take a sucker shot like that, and whipped around, grabbing the stick and wrenching it from his hands. 

“Computer. Go. Now!”

His terse command reminded him too much of Batman. 

_I really hope I wasn’t **this** obnoxious at his age._

He was packing away tools and weapons when his phone pinged brightly - a calendar reminder. 

_Anniversary Date with Kory, 9PM, Home._

A year with Kory. A year and a half since his life had yet again been divided into “before” and “after”. 

Circling back to the comfort of that relationship had been natural “after”. She brought a bright smile, an open heart, and a tapestry of similar emotional scars to complement his own. Their broken pieces just seemed to _fit_ together. 

He called out to the sulking teen at the far side of the ‘cave, “Heading out. We’ll go again tomorrow.” 

“_Great_.” Dick chose to ignore the petulance in Jason’s reply. The kid was headstrong, brutal, and ruthless. But he was also a teenager, and some sarcasm could be expected and forgiven. 

Dick zipped up his leather jacket, slung a leg over his ‘cycle, and tore off, excited for the evening ahead. 

He actually enjoyed the regular commute from New York to Gotham and back. The four hour round trip on his bike seemed like an indulgence - and watching the Gotham skyline disappear in his rear view felt like he could watch other memories disappear, too. He never tired of the momentary weightlessness he felt when the last skyscraper dipped below the horizon and out of sight. 

Traffic was light, and Dick pulled up to his building just as the summer sun was fading, painting the sky bright pink and orange. The colors made him think of Kory, and he was smiling, smitten, as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. 

_Our apartment, after tonight. Hopefully. _

Distracted, he almost stepped on the small package atop the bland ‘Welcome’ mat in front of the door. He scooped it up, curious, and unlocked the door, dropping his helmet, keys, and other mail on the table by the entryway. 

_Only 8 o’clock. I’ve got time_

He flopped down onto the sofa and popped open the tape on the box, finding a small, handheld recorder nestled inside. Interest roused, he turned up the volume and pressed ‘play’. 

A sickeningly familiar, lightly accented voice spoke, 

_”Subject number is 4336, experimental start date is twentieth of January, 2018...”_

“No. No...” he tried to turn the playback off, but his trembling hands fumbled, dropping the device to the floor and behind the couch, out of reach. 

_”Sample collection beginning at 1100 hours...”_ Sivana’s voice continued. Dick heaved the sofa away from the wall, blindly combing through the dust beneath it, reaching for the device, vividly remembering what came next. 

The speakers cracked as muffled screams cut through the audio. 

_My screams_

He sat on the floor, frozen, as the recording continued to play for several minutes, then stopped abruptly. A new voice imposed on top of the old tape. 

_”Hey, hero. Took a while to find you. To put it all together. But then, you didn’t think I’d let you go that easily, did you..._

Dick involuntarily drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping them tightly with his arms, shaking his head, forgetting how to breathe...

_”After all, I’m not done with you, yet.”_

The screaming cut back in, and Dick grabbed for the recorder again, his finger finally finding the ‘stop’ button. 

_Joseph knows? He **knows**. How could he know? I can’t do this again..._

A cordial, rhythmic knock at the door startled him, and he curled up tighter, digging his nails into his arms and trying to think of anything other than _him_ and failing miserably. 

A key found its home in the lock, and the door opened. “Dick? You here?” Her emerald eyes scanned the room and found him rocking slightly on the floor behind the couch. “X’hal!” she swore, and crouched down beside him, being careful and intentional in giving him distance. 

“Dick, I’m here. It’s ok. What happened?” 

He clenched his eyes closed, ashamed. It had been so long, he was doing so well...

Kory snatched the open box from the table nearby and pulled out a small piece of paper - a newspaper clipping of Dick, helping hostages off of a cargo plane, with a crudely penciled on mask over his face, and a message scrawled below. 

“Gotcha, hero!”


	2. Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Light, smutty smut this chapter. And some angst.

“I’m going to take your hand, and put it on my chest. Feel my heartbeat? _That_ is what is real. I am real and you are safe.” 

Kory’s airy voice tore a hole of sunlight into the darkness of memories he found himself buried in. He gasped for air, unaware he had been holding his breath, and opened his eyes to meet hers. 

Crawling closer to him in the cramped space behind the couch, she squeezed his hand, “This is from _Him_?” In their worlds there was always a Him, or a Them; a malevolent, unnamed entity that menaced their dreams. For Kory, it was the Citadel. An entire race of beings intent on slavery and destruction. 

For Dick, it was simply a man. Joseph Alvah. 

Though that wasn’t entirely true, he supposed. 

_Alvah. Sivana. Thornton. A network of cruel, sadistic monsters who saw nothing wrong with the trade of money for human lives. _

He nodded, returning the squeeze and getting to his feet. Somehow, Kory knew precisely what to say or do to stop the panic, the loss of touch; to bring him back to what was concrete and _real_. 

Dick cleared his throat and handed her the recorder, “Sent this too, but don’t listen to it unless you’re feeling short on nightmare fuel.”

__

Together, they slid the sofa back into place and sat down. Kory turned device over in her hands. “Do you need this? Is it evidence?” 

He shrugged, “I don’t think so. The FBI is supposed to have all of the original tapes from the Rosewood site. It’s probably a copy.” 

“Then perhaps we should destroy it. If it’s only purpose was to threaten you...” she tightened her fist and the recorder began to creak and buckle under the strain. 

He sighed, “As much as I would love to watch you smash that into tiny pieces, we should wait.” Dick took it from her and placed it back into its box. “If _He_ is planning something... I should give it to Oracle. See if she can sift through the audio, find anything useful.” 

“I understand.” It wasn’t often that Kory’s feelings were a mystery to him, but she bowed her head behind a curtain of hair, and he felt lost. 

“I’m so sorry, Kory. Tonight was supposed to be about you, about _us_. Not this.” He looped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. 

“It’s not that at all!” She looked up at him abruptly, eyes shimmering with unspilled tears. “I’m just...your courage is overwhelming. When faced with _Them_, I ran. But in spite of everything, you’re still fighting. I am... proud of you.” 

He pressed his forehead to hers, cupping her cheeks and wiping the falling tears away with his thumbs. “You are _the_ most incredible person I have ever known. And if I’m brave, it’s only because you taught me how.” 

He leaned even closer, his lips ghosting against hers, then pulling back, waiting; asking. 

Drawing a shuddering breath, she answered, catching his bottom lip in her teeth before slipping her tongue between them; tentative at first, then deep, needful. 

He swept his hands down her back and pulled her onto his lap, dragging his fingertips down her soft thighs. 

She pulled away, giggling.  
“Stop! That tickles.” 

Sliding down to the floor, out of reach, she knelt between his knees, and unzipped his jeans. Then she started to pull them down. Undressing him. 

_Slowly. _Agonizingly slowly. Mischief alight in her eyes 

Almost imperceptibly (crinkling wrappers weren’t subtle), she rolled a condom over his cock before she wordlessly took him into her mouth, swallowing, her clever tongue lingering on the tip each time she came up for air. 

Gently, he swept her hair to the side, out of the way. He wanted to see - how her lips wrapped around him, how her smile would cling to the corners of her mouth when he moaned. 

With a last, languid motion, she climbed back onto his lap, hiking up her skirt and hitching her panties to the side before slipping down onto him, then grabbing his shoulders and rocking her hips; deliberate, unhurried. 

He pulled her down into another kiss, begging. 

_More_. 

In reply, her pace quickened, and he buried his face into her soft breasts beneath the cloth of her dress. 

She tilted her head back, gasping, losing rhythm as her pleasure grew. He grabbed her hips firmly, steadying her, taking the lead as she ran her fingers through her hair. 

Her body arched and a low, satisfied growl rose from her throat. To him, with her fiery hair like a waterfall behind her back, brushing his legs, she looked like a Goddess, and he was all too happy to worship. 

Her breath came in bursts, now, light and airy moans overtaking the deeper sounds from before. She was _close_. He could almost smell it, the earthy, spicy scent of her sweat overtaking her freesia perfume. 

Finally, her eyes opening wide, as if she were surprised by her own pleasure, she came, trembling and leaning against his chest, catching her breath. 

He chuckled breathily against her ear, teasing it with his teeth. Tenderly, he moved her sated body off his lap and back onto the sofa, then retrieved his pants from the floor, tugging them back up to his hips. 

“I love you so much,” he sighed, kissing her forehead and covering her with a blanket. She smiled, eyes heavy, and she snuggled against the soft cloth. 

Sleepily, she replied, “I love you, too.” 

Her breathing evened, slow and rhythmic as she fell asleep. Dick grabbed the box with the recorder from the table and headed to the other room, pulling out his phone. He hesitated. Should he call Bruce - tell him his identity is compromised? Their relationship had chilled considerably since the ‘addition’ of a new Robin, and he wasn’t prepared to face Batman’s anger right now. Instead, he settled on an intermediary and dialed. 

“Hello, Babs? I think... we have a problem.” 


	3. Soon

“I missed you last night. Where did you go?” 

Kory padded out from the bedroom to the kitchen where Dick was flipping a stack of photographs. 

“I know, babe. I’m sorry.” He didn’t look up, engrossed, “I wanted to get that ‘package’ to Oracle ASAP.”

“You drove all the way back to Gotham?” He heard her pull the carafe of coffee out and pour a mug before coming to sit across from him. 

“No. She met me halfway. Literally. A truck stop in south Jersey. She had this for me, anyway.” He held up a police case-folder; more photos and handwritten notes poking out at the edges. 

“Something new?” She gingerly pulled a picture close to her. An autopsy photo. She cringed. 

Dick looked up and saw her pained expression fixed on the dead woman’s face. He reached out and tangled his fingers in hers. “I know you’re worried, but this...” he sighed. “Plus Joseph Alvah resurfacing? It’s not a coincidence.” He tugged out another photo, a closeup of the woman’s arm with the number 4337 carved into it. 

“Maybe you should give this some distance, Dick. I’m sure Batman can...” trailed off, knowing she would never convince him. 

“Batman has his hands full with his new Robin. The last thing he needs is a case like this. Besides, _Gotham_ is his purview. This is local.” It was a tenuous excuse and they both knew it. The truth was, he _needed_ another chance to really finish this case. 

“Just please,” she nodded, then leaned in for a kiss, “please be careful.” 

“Promise.” He gulped the last of his coffee and stood, “I was going to head out and pick up some of those mini-quiches you like, for breakfast. Did you want anything else, special?” 

“I thought you were needed in Gotham today? Training the new Robin?”

He bent down for another kiss, chuckling, “I think I’ve earned a personal day, don’t you?”

——-

It was only a few blocks to the bakery, and the morning was unseasonably cool for July, so he decided on walking. He was only a half a block away when a familiar creeping dread scuttled up his chest and down his back - someone was following him. 

He walked past his destination, exploiting a short break in traffic to jog across the street instead, looking back from the safety of the other side of the avenue. 

Between the gaps of the speeding cars, a familiar figure smiled and waved. 

_Joseph?_

Before Dick could blink, double check, be sure, a large truck stopped in the crosswalk. When it pulled away again, _he_ was gone. 

He shook his head, chastising himself. 

_Paranoid. Seeing things. Maybe Kory was right. I should keep my distance from this._

As soon as he thought it, he dismissed it. The only way to make this all _stop_, once and for all, was for him to finish what he started. 

_Besides, of course I’m spooked. Pretty sure that’s what he wanted._

He crossed back to the bakery, still distracted as he placed his order and paid. If he were honest, this wasn’t his first brush with an experience like this. The feeling of being watched plagued him for months after he left the manor. It had been a major achievement when he finally felt like he could walk home without taking different paths and alleys just to be sure he wasn’t followed. 

_And now I’m sliding back to square one._

On the walk back, he texted Jason. 

_Taking the day off. Tell Bruce._

He considered adding an excuse, but decided he didn’t want to have to remember a lie. Any reason with even a hint of truth would be too mean to type. 

He climbed the stairs back to his apartment, bag in hand, and paused, taking a breath. He wanted to be sure he was leaving all of _that_ behind him - Kory had a hell of an intuition about things that bothered him, and he just wanted to celebrate and spend time time together. In peace. 

“I’m home!” He shouted, pushing the door open. He could hear the shower running, so he took the opportunity to set the table, light some candles...

_Make up for last nights debacle..._

Kory came into the kitchen, wrapped in just a towel, as he was pouring juice into the glasses. 

“What’s all this?” She was delighted. 

“Day-after-anniversary-breakfast date! Ta-dah!”  
Maybe he was overdoing the enthusiasm a bit, but he really _wanted_ to have a good time, and he was determined to make it happen. 

As he was pulling out her chair, a knock at the door startled them both. Kory narrowed her eyes dangerously and Dick stalked over, carefully peering through the peep-hole. 

Almost immediately, he started laughing and unlocked the door, opening it to reveal a small, wrinkly old lady holding a large manilla envelope. 

“Hello Mrs. Carmichael.” He greeted his downstairs neighbor warmly as Kory snickered behind him, embarrassed by their mutual fear. 

“Hello dearie! Postman delivered your things to my door again, I’m afraid!” She handed over the envelope, stealing a peck on Dick’s cheek and blushing, then turning as quickly as she could and heading back down the steps, giggling to herself. 

As soon as he shut the door, Kory’s repressed chuckles escaped into hysterical laughter, and she sat at the table, wiping tears from her eyes. 

“I’m starting to think she’s doing this on purpose somehow, just to have an excuse to come up here. My mail gets ‘lost’ about once a week now.” He dropped the envelope on the table and joined Kory as she caught her breath. 

“She’s got a crush on you, it’s sweet!” She held up the post, “May I?” 

“Knock yourself out.” 

She tore at the flap and peeked inside, her fading giggle suddenly changing to a horrified gasp. 

“What is it?” 

Shaking her head, unable to answer, she pulled out a stack of Polaroids. All of Dick - shopping, driving, on a date with Kory, outside his apartment... dozens of them. 

One in particular stood out. A photo of Dick, crossing the avenue by the bakery. This morning. 

Scrawled across the bottom in red pen was a single word. 

_Soon_


	4. 4337

Suffocated. 

That was the only word he could use to describe what he felt as he lined the photos up on the table, chronologically, as best he could. 

Thirty-seven. Roughly two for every month since he left the manor and moved to New York. 

Part of him felt oddly relieved. Vindicated. An image of him hauling boxes into his apartment confirmed he was being watched from the start. Followed. 

Another piece was ashamed he had taken that instinct for granted and labeled it a weakness. Ignored it even when it howled at him that danger was close. He had tried to listen to that gnawing in his chest, even brought it up to Bruce...

_”Maybe it’s too soon for you to be out on your own again.“_

His patronizing concern, his lack of _faith_ that Dick could handle it felt suffocating, too. So the next time he said nothing. And the next time. Until he could pretend that he didn’t feel someone’s eyes fixed on his back, staring at him from the shadows. 

Tearing his attention away, he looked up at Kory - her breathing shallow, jaw tight, eyes narrow. She looked dangerous. Practically murderous. Tentatively, he touched her wrist, grabbing her gaze. “It’s ok, Kor, he’s just trying to scare me.”

“No.” Her voice was commanding. Crisp and cold. “He _is_ threatening you.”

He shrugged, going for nonchalance and overshooting into rash apathy, “Give it time. I’ll get him back into custody, and then the only person he’ll be intimidating will be his cell mate.” 

“Please remember there is a difference between courage and recklessness,” She admonished. 

He nodded soberly, “You’re right. I’m sorry, I’m just...”

“Afraid?” She supplied. 

_Damn it._

“Is it obvious?” He tried to chuckle, but the noise that came out was more of a breathy, hitching sigh. 

“Only because you would be a fool if you weren’t frightened.” She smiled, “And I know you are _not_ a fool.”

——-

He spent the day at the computer, uploading each photo, sending them to Oracle and then personally combing them over. Some of the angles were _close_. Really close. 

_How the hell did I miss this...?_

_Because I **wanted** to miss it. Obviously._

He had been so desperate to find some semblance of normal he had forgotten there would never _be_ a normal. Not for people like him. 

A notification from Oracle popped up in front of the analysis he was running. 

_Got an ID on 4337_

He cringed, and rubbed the slightly bumpy surface of his inner arm where his own brand had been - now just a too-pink patch of grafted skin. 

Before he could reply, a recent photo and dossier opened on the screen. 

_Holly McGill, 26_

If it weren’t for the numbers carved into her, he would have never pegged this as Sivana’s work. Her dossier read like the exact _opposite_ of everyone that had been targeted in the past. Holly had been a local MMA fighter. Recently married. Fit, capable, and in the public eye. Someone who would be _missed_. Someone hard to coerce and exploit. 

So why her? Why take the risk on someone who would start a furor over their absence? 

The reason was at the edge of things he didn’t want to recall. 

_”Previous attempts have failed, likely because of overall poor specimen condition...”_

Sivana had lamented more than once that others had died too soon to be useful. But Dick hadn’t. 

_”I’ve never seen anyone come back from an experiment and live more than a few minutes...” Patrick had told him._

This was a calculated decision, not a random draw. 

Sivana needed people like Nightwing. ‘Subjects’ that would _survive_.

He pulled up the autopsy report. Her right bicep had been completely removed, replaced with, what the ME described as, “A gel matrix containing traces of gold and cadmium”. 

Sivana had called them _nanites_. Minuscule, autonomous robots that he theorized could accelerate healing and tissue growth. In reality they only served as metal splinters, coursing through the bloodstream until they lodged somewhere dangerous. 

It appeared he was trying to refine his approach to that particular problem. A gel matrix _might_ keep the nanites in place long enough to do what they were meant to. Holly had clearly lived longer than Sivana’s previous attempts - her arm had begun to scar over, and there was evidence that he had begun tearing out other tissues, as well; an eye, a large patch of skin from her back, a long, unhealed incision on her upper abdomen, hinting at the missing liver beneath it. 

Alive and missing for 15 days. She had been torn apart, piece by piece. Then unceremoniously abandoned behind rancid grease barrels near a restaurant in Chinatown. 

Without his backing from Intergang and their trafficking ring, Sivana had fewer ‘subjects’ to use, and a less organized place to dispose of them. 

_If I don’t break this soon, it’s only a matter of time before there are more dump sites like this._

“Oracle, you there?” Maybe there was something more - an old property in Sivana’s name, information on where Holly disappeared? Anything. 

“You’ve got Robin!” Jason’s too-loud voice cracked through the connection. 

Dick dropped his head back, exasperated. Already over this kid. 

“Where is Oracle?” He asked, “I don’t have a lot of time for games today.”

“She’s around.” Jason huffed, “And it’s not a game, man. Batman has me shadowing her today. Since _somebody_ was too busy to get his ass down here for combat training.” 

Dick said nothing, rolling his eyes. If Bruce was pawning him off on Babs, he had to find Jason obnoxious, too. 

“Oracle filled me in, I’ve got all the deets. So this case is gnarly, huh? Want help? I can come up there, it would be an epic team-up!” Jason was exuberant, optimistic. Young. 

Softening a bit, remembering when he was a little too excited to be Robin, too, he replied, “I’ll keep that in mind. I do really need Oracle, though. Let her know I called?” 

“You got it, ‘Wing!” 

He rolled back from the computer slightly and rubbed his eyes. He could check out the locations; Holly’s home, her job, in person later. Now he was hungry and tired. 

Through the living room, to the kitchen. Kory had gone home hours ago, and he wryly remembered he had planned to ask for _this_ to be her home before everything went straight to hell. Again. 

He unwrapped a granola bar and filled a glass of water, standing at the counter for his brief respite. 

For the second time today - there was an unexpected knock at the door. Dick paused, sucking in a breath and staring, waiting. Whoever was in the hallway, he was in no mood to deal with them. 

Then it was a fist, pounding, desperate and frantic. A light, frightened voice called out from the other side. “Please, Robbie. I need your help!” 

_Mark?!_

This had to be a trap. He hadn’t seen Mark since...

_Since he tried to shoot me._

It was all too familiar to be a coincidence. 

“Please! They’re going to kill me!” 

Set-up or no, he wasn’t about to let someone be murdered at his doorstep. He wrenched at the knob and Mark practically fell into the apartment. 

“Oh thank God! Lock the door!” 

_Obviously_

“Alright.” Dick began, latching the door and dragging Mark to his feet, then over to the sofa, “Start at the beginning, tell me what’s going on. Who’s trying to kill you?”

“How the shit am I supposed to know?! Some guy!” The effort of yelling made Mark tremble. He was never large, but now he was so thin his elbows looked more like knobs with skin stretched over them, his cheekbones hollowed and lips pulled taut. He was clearly not doing well. 

“Ok, fine. Fair enough. Why are you here?” 

“They’re after me.” He was breathless, his hand over his chest, “I’ve been trying to hide but... they’re mad you didn’t die, that I didn’t kill you. I lost my apartment, my job... I called your doctor and said I wanted to visit you, she gave me your address. You’re the only person I have.” 

_Goddamnit Leslie. Little warning would have been nice._

“Were you followed here?” Dick stalked to the window, pulling back the curtain and peering out. 

“No! They were trying to get me in _Metropolis_. I just got to New York an hour ago.” 

Breathing deeply, Dick covered his face with his palm. “Then why were you screaming in my hallway?” 

Mark looked at his feet, contrite, his fear waning, “I thought you wouldn’t answer the door. Look, I just need a place to lay low for a few days. I’m good with the couch. Please?” 

Dick couldn’t help but feel more than a little responsible. After Mark had left the manor last year, he fully intended to go after him, to find him and drop him at rehab personally, if necessary.

And then his world disintegrated. 

If he were honest, in all of his own pain and recovery, he’d forgotten. 

“Ok. Sure. A few days. On the condition that you actually go to rehab and get back on your meds, this time?”

Mark hopped up, losing his balance and then catching it as he hugged Dick. 

“Thank you so SO much! We’re going to have so much fun! You’re my hero!”

Dick winced. He was hating this already.


	5. Sham

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit short and angsty on this chapter. The slow build will be worth it.

Leaning on the bedroom doorframe, Dick watched Kory and Mark talk a mile a minute, giggling and waving their hands about fashion and cupcakes. 

He had called her as soon as Mark invited himself to stay. As far he was concerned, the man was a threat, and he wasn’t _quite_ naive enough to just go to sleep without backup. 

Turning, he gathered up a few spare blankets and pillows, and brought them to the living room, setting them down just as a small alarm went off on his phone. 

_’Meds’_ the alert read. 

_Right_

He didn’t _hate_ his antiretrovirals. Leslie had worked hard to find a good combination, and he was at ‘undetectable’ in under 3 months. 

He hated the _reminder_. The invitation to relive regrets he wished he could just shut out. Every. Night. 

Though it was better, now. The first few weeks he practically had a panic attack whenever the alarm dinged. _Alfred’s_ alarm. Nobody expected very much of him for a while, least of all a responsibility like that. He would dig his nails in into the table and swallow, badly hiding the tears dripping down his chin. 

_Those_ moments were also ones he’d rather forget . He’d felt like a child, helpless and patronized. 

Now, he took the pills without ceremony, and then put the bottles away. Out of sight. Just because he didn’t loathe them didn’t mean he wanted to look at them all day. 

_I should go be social_

He relaxed back into an overstuffed chair across from the tittering pair, and listened to their conversation with mild interest. The subject had rapidly swung to Kory’s burgeoning but successful modeling career. 

He realized this was the first time he’d really _looked_ at Mark since he showed up that afternoon. He seemed impossibly thin, with a yellowish, sallow hue to his crepe-paper skin. His chest rattled with each laugh, and even that devolved into thick coughs if he carried on too long. Dick was ashamed he didn’t see it the minute he arrived. 

Mark was dying. 

And maybe he was _here_ simply because he didn’t want to do it alone. 

——-

Mark fell asleep mid-conversation. Dick covered him with a blanket, getting him adjusted and comfortable, before gesturing for Kory to follow him to the other room. 

“I’m sorry I called you back out, Kor. I _may_ have overestimated the threat, here.” 

“You should not apologize for taking reasonable precautions. But I agree. He seems... very sick.” She sighed, wrapping him in a hug, “it was very kind of you to allow him to stay.” 

“I may be getting paranoid in my old age,” he joked, “but I wasn’t going to let him die in the street. You should head home, though- don’t you have an early morning shoot tomorrow?”

“I do,” she gave him a teasing kiss, “but if you need me, I would be happy to cancel. After all, I’m told that is what ‘divas’ do.”

He laughed against her lips, then pulled away, “really, I’m ok. I should call Leslie, anyway. See if there is anything we can do for him, even if it’s just to make him comfortable.” 

She nodded, then waved goodbye as she tiptoed out of the apartment. Dick shut his bedroom door and pulled out his phone,

“Leslie Thompkins speaking.”

_Damn. It’s a clinic night. She’s busy._

“Hey Leslie, it’s me. Sorry to bother you...”

“Not at all, I’m just wrapping up some paperwork. You ok?” She always seemed alarmed when he called. Though perhaps calls from him _were_ usually alarming. 

“I’m great. Though I got a visit from an old mutual friend. Mark Fuller?” 

“Oh goodness! How is _he_ doing?” 

“He’s dying, I think. He looks like hell. He’s sleeping on my couch right now.”

She sighed soberly, “That would fit his timeline. He was bad off eighteen months ago. He never really restarted his meds...”

“I know.” That guilty feeling crept up again. 

_I should have tracked him down. Maybe it wouldn’t have been too late, then._

“Is there anything we can do for him, aside from creature comforts, at this point?”

“Hard to say without laying eyes on him.” Another sigh. “There’s a clinic out by you, on B street, for end-stage cases. They might be able to help sooner than I would.”

“I appreciate the info. Oh, also...” he really hated to bring it up, “I’m not upset at all, but if you could give me a call or a heads up next time someone asks you for my address, I’d appreciate it.”

Her tone sharpened, “What are you talking about?”

“Mark said he asked you where I was and you...gave him my address?” He opened his door a crack, eyeing his visitor critically. 

“He didn’t call me. Last time I saw or heard from him was over a year and a half ago.” 

_You’re a gullible idiot, Grayson. _

“Oh, ok. I’m sorry, then. I must’ve misunderstood. Thanks again.” 

“Be careful.” She said with finality, “I don’t like this.”

_Neither do I._


	6. Bait and Switch

_Maybe it isn’t anything nefarious or life threatening? There has to be a legitimate way Mark found me. Then invited himself in. After lying repeatedly. He’s definitely **not** a Trojan horse sent by Joseph. That’s just paranoia, right?_

_Yeah. Right. _

_God, you’re a rube._

But Mark was still asleep. Which meant he had time. Time to get information and a solid upper hand. 

He padded to his office, locked the door, and opened a secure channel. 

“You there, Oracle?” He whispered.

“You’ve got Robin!” Too loud. Again. 

“Shhh!” Goddamnit. “Pro tip kid - If someone calls you and they’re _whispering_, keep your voice down. I need Oracle.”

“She’s not here. On a date. Left me in charge. How sick is that? So what do you need?” Jason did manage to keep his volume lower that time. Just a little. 

_Fine. Fine! Beggars can’t be choosers._

“I need a rundown of every single person Marcus Fuller has associated with in the last three weeks. Mailmen, baristas, I don’t care. I need to know _immediately_ if the name Joseph Alvah is at all related.” 

“Oh shit! Isn’t that the guy from that big trafficking bust that got away like a year ago? B told me all about it. Badass work, man. Ok. I’m doing the thing...Nada. I’m not seeing any connections. Look - O gets back in like, an hour. I can come to you in New York after? I want to _help_. Not be stuck with desk duty.”

Dick hated idea of Jason worming his way into his life, pawing through his privacy...

_Then again...I could use someone to babysit Mark. Take him to the clinic, get him out of my house, **before** he does whatever he may or may not have been sent to do..._

“Sure, ok. Clear it with B and come in civvies. Thanks.”

“Hell yes!” Jason was shouting again, and Dick groaned as he cut the comm. 

_I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?_

_Still, looping in the kid couldn’t possibly be the worst decision I’ve made today._

He unlocked the office door and peered out, startled to find Mark awake and rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. 

Dick cleared his throat, “Can I help you with something?”

Mark shrieked, and pill bottles clattered to the floor, “Jesus! You scared me. I was just...”

“I don’t have anything that will get you high, and I don’t have any pills worth selling.” Dick walked to the kitchen and picked up the medicines, putting them away and then pulling the cabinet door from Mark’s hands, closing it hard. He crossed his arms over his chest, cocking an eyebrow and waiting for the denial. 

“I’m sorry...” Mark sniffled, “I just wanted something to make it all stop hurting so fucking much. Forgot how boring you were...”

_That felt honest. Huh. _

“Look,” Dick sighed, “All I can give you is ibuprofen tonight. But there’s a clinic on B street that can help. I’ll take you tomorrow, ok?”

Mark rolled his eyes, “Right. If it’s anything like the one in Metropolis I went to, they’ll recommend hospice. I don’t want to die, Robbie.” He stepped forward, pulling Dick in for a hug before he could move away. 

“Mark, I cant begin to understand...”

Dick stopped short as he felt a thick needle jam into his neck. 

_Fuck._

He sagged against the counter, hating himself for being so _stupid_. 

“I’m so sorry, Robbie.” Mark looked horrified at his own actions, and dropped the large, empty syringe on the floor. “There was this guy, he said he knew a doctor who’s working on a cure. A way to make really sick people better. I don’t have to die! He just... needed you. Told me to drug you and he’d take care of the rest. ” 

Every muscle screamed and shook. A warm, unsettling numbness crept up his toes, into his legs...

“Who?!” He rasped. Already sure of the answer. 

“I...I don’t know. He’ll be here soon. I’m...supposed to let him in.” 

As if on cue, a rapping at the door. 

“No. Please. Don’t open it.” It was getting harder for Dick to breathe. He tugged himself forward, grabbing for Mark and overshooting badly. Instead, pulled a towel rack off the wall as he crashed to the floor. 

Mark’s shot a glance at the door, tears in his eyes. Hesitating. 

“There is no cure, Mark. That doctor...” he had to get up. Get ready for a fight. He hauled himself up with his arms, gasping for air, “He can’t help you. He tears people into pieces for fun. He’s a butcher.”

“Uh uh, no...” Mark crossed to the entryway, hand on the knob. “You’re wrong. You have to be. I don’t want to die.” 

Dick could only watch, vision blurring, as the door swung open and _He_ stepped over the threshold. 

“Been a while, hero. You look _good_.”

Joseph stalked into the kitchen, shoving Mark out of the way. 

_Only one shot at this._

Dick slid his hand into a drawer, grabbing a small knife and hurling at Joseph - but the drugs were overwhelming, and he missed entirely. 

“That’s what I like about you.” He laughed, closing the distance and grabbing Dick by the throat. “You never stop fighting. Right up to the end.” He slammed Dick to the floor. 

Mark screamed, “You said you wouldn’t hurt him. Please!” 

Joseph growled and stood, giving Dick the opportunity to roll over and try to breathe, dark spots competing with bright flashes in his vision. 

“I am so sick of you already! Weak. Pathetic. No fun at all.” In two large steps, Joseph grabbed Mark, abruptly twisting his neck. Dick heard a loud ‘crack’ over the pounding in his ears, and Mark dropped to the carpet. 

_Can’t think about him. Have to get out._

Crawling now, Dick tried to make his way to the bedroom and to the fire escape at that window. 

He couldn’t get far. His arms were trembling with the effort as he inched along the linoleum. The room faded in and out before his eyes. Behind him a laugh. _That_ laugh. 

A heavy boot ground down into his back. “Where you going, sweetheart?”

Reaching out blindly, Dick’s fingers found the empty syringe Mark had dropped. He swung it up in his hand, digging it in to Joseph’s thigh.

Rough hands clawed into his wrist and Joseph howled, twisting Dick’s shoulder back until it snapped out of place. 

The pain, the drugs, everything; it was too much. Against his will, Dick’s body relented and went limp.

“That was a hell of an appetizer, hero.” Joseph had leaned down, breathing heavily into his ear as the last of Dick’s sensations faded away, “Can’t wait for the main course.”


	7. Scourge

First came the sound. Loud, disorienting. Shrill and piercing. The kind of ear-splitting noise that made him wince and try to turn away. 

But there was no ‘away’. Nowhere to go. Metal handcuffs bit into his wrists and held them behind his back, against an ice cold metal wall. Blood dripped down his fingertips and onto his calves. His knees dug into the grates beneath him. 

He opened his eyes and reflexively shut them again. Bright light flooded the room, making it impossible to see. Even behind his eyelids, the intensity was almost unbearable. 

Cold. Freezing. There was nothing he could do to suppress the shivers that coursed through his muscles until they ached. 

He tried to call out, only to find his mouth stuffed with cloth and taped shut. 

_He gets full marks for being thorough, I guess._

Suddenly, the noise stopped, the light was cut, and heavy footsteps clanked across the floor 

A sharp slap sparked across his cheek and _He_ spoke. “Good of you to finally join me. I was beginning to worry I’d given that whiny bitch too much tranquilizer for you.”

Dick opened his eyes and scowled, trying his best to look dangerous instead of terrified. 

Joseph continued, ignoring the glare, “I went to a lot of trouble to get you here. After last time, when Nightwing dropped off the face of the Earth for months, I thought maybe I’d broken my favorite toy already. But then I remembered something. Something at the edge of my mind - Batman had said your name. Your _real_ name. Luckily for me, there aren’t that many men who fit your description named ‘Dick’ anymore. It didn’t snap together, though, until I saw a ‘heroes of the year’ piece in the newspaper. And there you were. Standing on a plane, saving _children_. After that, it was just a matter of tracking down someone I could use to get close to you. 

“Had to be patient, though. You were like a scared rabbit at first. Out on your own in a new city. I needed you strong again. Breaking toothpicks is not my idea of entertainment. So I waited. And I watched. And slowly, you came back. My special plaything. 

“Sivana wanted you back, too. But you’re _mine_, so we struck a deal. I help him get subjects; _good_ ones, strong ones, and he leaves you to me.

“I hope you appreciate all the work I put in, to find you, and to keep you. We’re going to have so much fun.” 

Ending with another smack, Joseph stood, and turned out of the room, the bolt on the door echoing slightly, just as the lights and screeching snapped back on. 

——-

Sighing, Jason adjusted his jacket before knocking at Dick’s door. Barbara had come home late after her ‘date’ which meant _he_ looked like a dumbass showing up hours after he said he would. 

He waited. 

Nothing. 

He knocked again, and shouted, “Hey, I’m here man! Open up!” 

Silence. 

_ This better not be some kind of test._

He called Dick’s phone, alarmed to hear it ring behind the door. 

“Alright, look. I know you’re in there. I heard your phone, ok?”

Nada.

_This is bullshit._

With a furtive glance over his shoulder, Jason pulled out his drivers license, prepared to pop the deadbolt - surprised to find it wasn’t locked. 

He tried the handle and pushed the door open, then poked his head in over the threshold. 

“Hello?” 

_Oh shit._

The apartment was in disarray - bloody syringe on the kitchen floor. A knife precariously sticking out of the carpet. A hole in the wall, plaster debris leaving a trail to a broken towel rack. 

He stepped in and shut the door. 

_Oh shit!_

He turned and saw the body crumpled in the corner behind him. 

Quickly, he made a sweep of the rest of the rooms. Empty. Dick’s phone was charging in the office, bed still made. 

_Bruce is not going to like this. _

He pulled out his own phone and dialed. 

“Hey B, I’m at Dick’s but...”

“What?” Bruce was terse. At a gala that was running long. 

“He’s not here. Looks like there was a fight.” He sighed and gave the corpse staring at him a once over, “And there’s some dead dude here. Don’t know who that is.” 

“What?!” Bruce was trying to keep his voice low, with little success. 

“I don’t know. That’s all I’ve got so far. Thought I should let you know ASAP.”

“Stay put. Lock the door. I’ll be there in two hours.”

“Stay here? With the dead guy?” Jason was _not_ thrilled with that prospect. 

“Yes, Jason. Stay there. Touch nothing.” Bruce cut the call abruptly

Jason rolled his eyes. _’Touch nothing.’_ Where was the harm in poking around a bit? 

Then again, Batman would be _pissed_ if he didn’t listen to something that simple. 

So Jason sat on the couch, positioning himself away from the open, glazed eyes that felt like they were following him, and waited.

——-  
Had it been hours? Days? There was no way to tell. The wailing sounds and the floodlights never turned off. And he just wanted to scream to at least make it all a little _different,_ but his mouth was cotton-dry and still taped shut. 

Suddenly, there was nothing. The lights and sounds were off, and Dick’s ears were ringing with the absence. He didn’t hear Joseph storm into the room. 

He _did_ hear him growling, “Who the _fuck_ did you call? Huh? Went to go and clean up your place, make sure nobody would have any way to find you, and there is a fucking _kid_ sitting on your couch. Who did you call?!” 

_Jason, you beautiful, obnoxious, asshole. Never thought I’d be relieved that you actually showed up._

Enraged, Joseph clamped his hand on Dick’s face, closing his nose and his last access to air. He leaned in, screaming, “no one can have you! You’re mine!”

Dicks chest heaved uselessly, involuntarily. Joseph’s grip and the gag were both tight. Instinctively, he slipped into a meditative technique Batman had taught him ages ago - a defense against this exact situation. 

_’Remember chum. If a captor wants something from you, they need you alive. Pretending you’re not can give you the upper hand. Catch them off guard.’_

He relaxed as much as he could, sagging forward and doing his best to ignore the cutting pain as he pulled against his restraints. On cue, Joseph backed away, a momentary look of horror on his face before he ripped the tape away from Dick’s lips and pulled the filthy rag from his mouth. 

He gulped at the ice cold air. “Thanks.” He quipped. “Was getting a little stuffy.”

That earned him a solid backhand to the jaw. 

Joseph shook his head, “you know what? Doesn’t matter who he is. Sivana’s been breathing down my neck for a new subject. Looks like I found one.”

Snarling, he pushed toward Dick, sealing his lips with a hard, sharp kiss, “Now that I have you, I’m never letting you go.”

He stood abruptly and stalked from the room, at last leaving Dick in the dark and silence.


	8. Play the Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting schedule may slow down a bit as this trilogy rounds out - rest assured I’m trying to maximize the quality and put out solid chapters. 
> 
> Content warnings in full effect for this chapter.

The unsettling quiet was decidedly better than that _noise_. At least now he could think. 

He peered through the darkness as best he could, the silhouette of the floodlights still painting his vision a rainbow of colors. Along the reflective metal walls, he could almost make out shelves and a fan housing. 

A commercial refrigerator. 

_That explains why it’s so goddamned cold_. 

Gingerly, he pulled and twisted the cuffs at his wrists, doing his best to avoid reopening the deep cuts, already scabbing. 

_No good. Fingers feel like frozen hotdogs. I’m not picking that lock any time soon._

_Goddamnit!_ Frustration was spilling over. He tugged hard at his restraints, feeling a gush of warm, fresh blood course over his palms again. 

_Jason is in trouble. You looped him in, dummy. Now he’s a target. _

_Bruce is going to be so pissed._

After nearly an hour of cursing, and twisting, Dick heard the bolt drop from the door again, and Joseph’s shadow filled the doorway. 

“I hope that kid wasn’t important to you. Sivana practically giggled when I dropped him off.”

_ Barely any time to bag Jason, take him to Sivana, and make it back? I must be close to the apartment..._

Joseph clanked forward and crouched down. Dick felt a momentary surge of pride when he saw the blossoming bruise on his jaw. 

_Nice. Kid actually landed a hit._

Then the moment was gone, crushed under Joseph’s grip on his throat. Dick struggled to keep his eyes open as darkness crept into the edges of what he could see. 

“No distractions, now.” Joseph chuckled, mirthless, icy, “Time to play.”

——-

Silently, Batman slipped into Dick’s bedroom window, eyes narrow. Scanning for danger. 

He’d initially come as Bruce and rapped at the door, impatient with the lack of response. 

As the minutes stretched on, and it became clear Jason wasn’t there, he returned to his car, suited up, and found his way inside. 

The bedroom was largely untouched. Bed still made, clothes on the floor near the hamper. Unremarkable. 

The living area told a different story. 

_A collapsed body in the corner. Mark Fuller. Neck snapped. _

_Empty syringe on the floor, bloodied. Someone was drugged, used the syringe as a weapon. Blood was completely dry. The first fight. _

_Overturned coffee table, broken lamp, smashed pictures. Blood still damp on the jagged edges of glass. The second fight. _

_Lividity on Mark’s corpse put the first incursion approximately 8 hours prior. Likely when Dick was taken. _

_Jason’s been missing less than two hours. Whoever did this came back to clean up. Found a visitor and had to keep him quiet. _

_Though there was only one body, not enough blood for a second. Jason was likely still alive. _

“Oracle,” Batman growled, “what was Nightwing’s last case? Why was Marcus Fuller _here_?”

Oracle stuttered, “I...I sent everything over to you yesterday. I thought you saw. Sivana is back. _Alvah_ is back. I can only guess why Fuller was there, but I can’t imagine it was anything good.” 

Batman growled. It wasn’t often he found himself on the back foot. And now both boys were potentially in the hands of madmen. 

_**My** boys._

He had been too busy with Gotham. Too busy with Jason. Too busy trying to give Dick the space Leslie told Bruce he needed. 

“Batman!” Oracle snapped, trying to pull his attention away from his thoughts, “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

“They’re gone, Oracle,” rage seeped into his gravelly voice, “They’re both _gone_”

——-

He couldn’t keep his legs under him anymore. His arms were suspended from those same damned too-tight cuffs, looped over a meat hook attached to the ceiling. 

The first few cracks of the whip against his bare back, he could handle. He’d had worse, and if he stretched, he could keep the ball of one of his feet on the floor, which kept pressure off his dislocated shoulder. 

The next few swipes dug into raw flesh, and he bit his lip bloody with the effort of not screaming. 

His silence drove Joseph into a rage. The blows came relentlessly, one after the other, tearing into skin until he swore he could feel the leather against the bone of his ribs. 

Still, he was quiet, swallowing the whimpers that threatened to escape from his throat. But he sagged against the cuffs, legs trembling too badly to be useful any longer. 

Joseph’s ragged breaths exploded between growls of frustration. “Not making this easy, huh? Good.” He was panting, losing stamina. 

Dick sucked a breath into his lungs, trying to keep his voice even, “Well, you said you went to a lot of trouble,” he quipped, “Figured I should make it worth your while.” He even managed a beleaguered chuckle. 

Joseph snapped, roaring as he pulled Dick off of the hook and let him collapse to the floor, “You think being a smart ass will keep me from hurting you? Keep me from making you scream? Trust me, I haven’t even gotten started. Maybe you forgot, but I remember the _exact_ moment you broke before. I know ways of making you suffer that will last for months; for the rest of whatever life _I_ give you. So go ahead, fight back. Or don’t. It doesn’t matter. I own you now, and I will enjoy proving it to you, as many times as it takes! Now get on your fucking knees, hero!”

Coughing, forcing a smile to hide the terror of what he knew would come next, he replied, “Couldn’t if I wanted to. And believe me, I don’t want to.”

Joseph unbuckled his belt anyway, then dig his nails into Dick’s scalp, hauling him into position by his hair. 

_No. Please no. Not this...I can’t..._

Joseph hesitated, tugging at himself, trying to force some semblance of an erection that he could push past unwilling lips. Frantic. Useless.

Dick couldn’t stop it; the relieved laugh that snuck into the air in the face of something so pathetic. 

“Looks like if I _won’t_ play the game, you _can’t_ play the game.” 

The jarring backhand he earned with that comment sent him back to the floor. 

And he almost missed it over the ringing in his ears, over the urge to shout ‘I win!’. 

Somewhere in the building; shrieking. Agonized. Terrified. 

_Oh, God. Jason. _

Dick kicked out, instinctively trying to pull himself in the direction of the sound, to help. But Joseph was on him, digging a boot into his flayed back, and breathing a shuddering, satisfied breath.

Caught off guard, Dick couldn’t steel himself against the blinding pain in time, and he screamed. 

“There we go,” Joseph was the one laughing, now, “Was that really so hard?” 

And there was nothing Dick could do to stop Joseph from straddling his hips, digging inside him, hard length like a knife in his gut. 

Just like all the nightmares he’d tried to forget.


	9. 4338

_You need to fight, Grayson. Jason needs you to fight._

But Joseph was relentless, hooking his fingers into Dick’s mouth, forcing it open so he could do nothing to suppress the piercing cries that came with each tearing, brutal thrust. 

Almost worse was the stream of vulgar whispers in his ear, “Oh fuck you’re so tight, so good for Daddy. Keep screaming, kid, keep screaming for me.”

_I won’t just let this happen again..._

Dick dug his elbows into the grated floor below him, pushing up from the ground to give himself leverage... 

_This is going to hurt. No choice..._

He shoved with his legs and rolled off of his belly, landing an elbow to Joseph’s temple with the motion, dazing him briefly. 

_Ah! Fuck fuck fuck!_

The sharp metal floor tore at the shreds of skin on his back, and he couldn’t think or breathe...

_ Don’t stop. Don’t give him an inch..._

Dick looped his bound hands around Joseph’s neck, slamming the man’s nose against his forehead, spurred on by a satisfying crunch and a gush of blood. 

“You’ll fucking regret that!” Joseph raged, sinking his teeth into Dick’s shoulder and twisting, pulling away a chunk of flesh. 

_It doesn’t matter. Saving Jason matters._

Pushing up with his feet firmly against the floor, Dick used the opening to force Joseph onto his back, grabbing his head and slamming it down. He breathed a shaky sigh of relief when his attacker was finally _still_. 

Trembling, he stood, distressed at how _quiet_ it had become. 

He waited, straining to hear anything - a whimper, a cry. 

Silence. 

Throwing open the door to his ad hoc cell, he paused again. 

Nothing. 

_Holly McGill lived 15 days,_ he reminded himself, _Jason was only just taken today_. As if that were some comfort. 

_Gotta search. Find him. Don’t have a lot of time..._

He was acutely aware of the blood running steadily from his back, down his legs, pooling around his feet as he stood still and listened. 

_If I don’t get moving, I’ll bleed out before I can be useful_

He dizzily turned and knelt by Joseph’s unconscious body, rifling through his pockets, almost crying in relief when his numb fingers fumbled against a key. 

Carefully, too slowly, he slipped the key into the slot on the cuffs, hissing as they popped open and dropped to the ground with a clatter.

_No time to celebrate...have to find him..._

He dragged himself up to his feet again, closing his eyes tightly as the room spun and his heart slammed in his chest. 

Mercifully, he heard it - a low, stifled sob, echoing against the walls of the abandoned factory outside the confines of the refrigerator. 

_Meat processing plant...seems fitting._

He pulled himself toward the sound, step by agonizing step, the darkened surrounds fading in and out as he made his way across the butchery floor and to another refrigeration case. 

Grappling with the handle, he managed to pull out the improvised locking bolt and tug open the door. Behind it, Jason was huddled in a corner, guarding his arm and trembling. 

“Hey, Jay, you alright?” 

Wincing, Dick crouched down trying to get a good look at him. 

“Fuck, no. Psycho did this and then said he needed ‘supplies’, so he left.” 

He held out his arm. ‘4338’ was etched inside, the skin charred and blistering around the curve of each number. 

_The smell of burning flesh, and Sivana chuckling and tutting to himself as he worked, overlining the strokes, making sure each one would be a permanent reminder of what was done to me. _

_Well...not exactly permanent._

“It’s ok,” Dick was panting, slurring, using every ounce of discipline he had just to keep from blacking out. He held out his own arm, the grafted skin an obvious marker of what had happened, “Leslie fixed mine. We’ll get you all sorted out back home.” 

“Shit, man,” Jason looked at Dick, “What the hell happened to _you_? We gotta get you out of here before you freaking bleed to death.”

“Nn...” adrenaline was waning, and so was Dick’s grip on consciousness, “Gotta get Sivana. Can you walk?”

Pale, wide eyed, Jason nodded, “Yeah, but if you go down I’m not sure I can carry you. We get out of here, get B, and he trashes the psycho. You’re in no shape to go after _anyone_. “

_I must be bad off if the kid is making sense._

Dick nodded weakly, and Jason helped him upright. Together, they limped and shuffled out of the cramped space. 

“...ich way? Hey... with me?” 

Jason’s voice cut in and out like a radio with a bad signal, and Dick’s knees gave out. 

“Oh fucking shit, man. Get up!” Jason was falling apart, and tried to heave him to his feet, sending shockwaves of pain deep into his muscles. “C’mon dude. I can’t leave you here, B will kill me.”

_I’ll die if he panics. Die if he stays. He needs to go get help. _

“Listen,” He said, doing his best to plaster a smile onto his face, “We can’t be far from my place. Only took Alvah a few minutes to... to get you here. Go. Call B. Come back. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Leave no man behind, right? I can’t leave...”

“You have to. Sivana could come back. I can hide, but I can’t walk... go.” 

Jason was shaking, terrified. He helped tug Dick behind some machinery and out of sight. “I’ll come right back. I promise. I’ll get B and I’ll be back. You just... don’t die Grayson.”

Through the haze, Dick managed a chuckle and a nod, “Promise. Go.” 

He swore he heard Jason sniffle as he stood, then took off in a sprint. He relaxed, groaning as he dropped the ‘I’m fine’ facade. Dipping his head to his chest to conserve energy, he closed his eyes, trying his best to think warm, happy thoughts. 

_Can’t die now...Kory would be crushed._

_Who am I kidding. She’d be pissed._

Breathlessly, he chuckled to himself. 

“You wanna share the joke hero?”

_Fuck._

“Cause I don’t think what you pulled is fucking funny.”

Heavy boots pounded to a stop next to him, and he opened his eyes, looking up to a rabid eyed, bloody-faced maniac. 

_Joseph. Thought he’d be down for longer... thought I had time..._

The large man straddled Dick’s lap where he sat, terror and exhaustion clouding around him. 

“Looks like I’m going to have to get creative again, to keep you in line.”

He dug the sharp tines of electrodes into Dick’s side, discharging a blinding shock, and the world faded and with it, the finality of Joseph’s voice,

“You’ll learn, hero. Don’t care how long it takes. You’ll learn.”


	10. Lost and Found

He was no longer in the factory. Of that he was certain. He kept his eyes relaxed and shut as he found his bearings. Rough, sticky carpet scratched at the bare skin of his chest, and he could hear a faint, _wooshing_ sound distantly as the room rocked gently around him. 

_Not a room. A van. On the move. Fantastic. _

“You realize, my dear Joseph, I have better things to do than fix your toys, yes?” Sivana sighed, and Dick felt the stinging, pinching bite of a suture looping through his wounds. 

“And do you realize, Doctor, that I have better things to do than be your errand boy? Just make sure he doesn’t die and you can get back to your ‘work.’” Joseph’s retort sounded distracted. 

_He’s driving. Means I only have Sivana’s attention. Can I use that?_

“Work that has yet again been interrupted by _this_ thing!” Another stitch, angrily clipped, “Your fascination with it has cost me a valuable subject _and_ another suitable laboratory!”

“I’ll get you more bodies. We’ll find a new lab. _He’s_ one-of-a-kind.”

Sivana snorted derisively, “Ah, Yes. Your ‘collection’? How many has it been? How many of my subjects have you poached? Hm?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Joseph replied, “With any luck, he’ll be the last for a while. He doesn’t break like my other toys have.” 

“Then I suggest you should be more _careful_ next time,” Sivana advised, “I can’t cure death, yet, and if I could I wouldn’t do it for your amusement.” 

Joseph only grunted in response, and Dick could feel Sivana finishing his work. “There. It’s not art, but I’ve stopped the bleeding. Now, where are we going?” 

Just above a whisper, Joseph answered, “Home.”

——-

Jason didn’t remember how he made it back. Didn’t remember the people staring as he sprinted down the street, covered in his brother’s blood. 

Things only came back into focus when he wrenched open the apartment door, then slammed it shut and sank to the floor, trembling and gasping for air. 

“Jason!”

The loud, dark voice made him cry out in surprise, and he snapped his head up from his chest. “Batman! You’re here, oh God, it’s Dick... I ran here, I didn’t want to leave him but I had to...” He was rambling, the horror of the last several hours crashing against him in a wave. 

Batman pulled him to his feet and grabbed his shoulders, keeping him steady. Inches from his face, he brusquely commanded “Robin. Report.“

Stunned for only a moment, Jason sucked a breath through his teeth and began, trying and failing to keep with Bruce’s exacting standards, “A man, Joseph Alvah, came to the apartment several hours ago. I fought, but was outmaneuvered. When I came to, I was strapped to a table and that psycho doctor, Sivana, was doing _this_,” he held out his scarred arm and Batman narrowed his eyes, waiting for him to continue. “I was dragged into a freaking refrigerator to wait for whatever was next but Dick... he got me out.”

“Where is he?” Batman was terse, expectant. 

“Meat factory, about 3 miles from here...I had to leave him, Bruce. I couldn’t carry him...” Jason was shaking now. 

“Are you hurt? Is this your blood?” The deep, gravelly voice gave way to a lighter, concerned one. 

“No. I’m not hurt. Dick was bleeding, I tried to help... He told me to leave him and I _did_ and I’m so sorry...”

“You have two minutes,” Batman tossed a bag with his Robin suit at him, “change. Then we’ll bring him home.”

——-

Keeping his footfalls silent, Batman paused for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the darkened factory. 

_Quiet. Any sounds would echo in a space like this._

“Where was he, Robin?” 

The whisper carried tremendous weight, and Batman was careful to keep his phrasing passive. 

_He already blames himself enough. It will only be worse if Dick isn’t..._

_No. We will find him._

Wordlessly, Robin pointed his flashlight in the direction of a hulking mixer-grinder, and Batman nodded, stalking closer. He sucked in a tight breath, burying any emotions as he rounded to the back and saw it. 

A large, scarlet pool of blood. Still wet. Still _warm_. 

“He’s only been gone a few minutes, we’ll find him.” Batman wasn’t sure if he was reassuring Robin or himself. 

Together they followed the bloody drag marks away from the machinery and into the loading dock, where they stopped. Batman felt an ice cold fist clenched in his stomach - he was too late. 

_Again. How many times will I get away with failing him before...?_

He couldn’t bear to finish the thought. There had been too many close calls. So much pain that Dick had been forced to endure. Batman stood at the edge of the concrete drop off, drowning in regret. 

_He told me he was being followed. He tried to warn me, to ask for help... _

_I didn’t believe him. Why didn’t I believe him?_

Rationality crept in, smothering the growing embers of emotion. 

_He pushed out on his own too fast, too soon. He was still fragile. I didn’t believe him because his experiences had led to his conclusions being unreliable. I didn’t believe him because..._

_I didn’t want to._

That single glowing hot coal of remorse gnawed at his guts. 

_I didn’t want to believe him and now he’s in the hands of that monster again. He’d barely survived the first encounter. A second will surely destroy him. _

_If he isn’t already dead._

_No. Thinking that is giving up and I do not give up. _

“Oracle,” he spoke with clear resolve into his comm, “I need all CCTV feeds from the last twenty minutes in a 5 block radius from my current location downloaded to the Batmobile computer immediately.”

He turned to Robin, who was wide eyed and pale, his eyes tracing from the blood pool to the dock over and over, “I won’t let them have him. Not again. I promise.”


	11. Collection

“Bruce...?”

Batman and Robin were sitting in the Batmobile in silence as they poured over the CCTV footage, searching for the vehicle that took Dick. 

“Hm?” Batman rewound a section, zooming in on the plate of a black van. 

“You said you won’t let them have him ‘again’? What...” Robin hesitated, “What did they do to him? Before? You told me about the trafficking bust, the lives he saved...but there’s more, isn’t there?” 

Batman inhaled sharply and eyed his protégé critically, weighing what, if anything, he should say. 

“Joseph Alvah and Thaddeus Sivana are sadists that hurt people because they _can_. They enjoy watching people break.” He hoped the vague explanation would be enough to sate Jason’s curiosity, and he continued his search. 

Jason was silent. Contemplating. Grappling with the subtext. 

“So they tortured him for fun? Is that it?” Jason was being glib, the brightness in his voice an irritation in a situation where Batman couldn’t afford the distraction. “You train us against torture techniques all the time! He’ll be fine! No sweat.”

Batman turned in his seat to face his Robin, “This isn’t a game, Jason! Men like this don’t want information, they don’t want leverage, they just want to push someone to the brink, then watch the light in their eyes dim as their spirit shatters. The minute you don’t take them seriously is the minute we lose. And I will _not_ lose. Understood?” 

Jason leaned back, plastered against the window, terrified in the face of Batman’s sudden anger. He lowered his head and replied, “Yes, sir.” 

“Good. Now...” he sighed, “A non-commercial van pulled away from the factory 25 minutes ago, heading out of the city. We got lucky, it’s registered to Alvah, and the address is about an hour north of here. I’m going to intercept them, but if you don’t grasp the seriousness of this I _will_ leave you behind. Is that clear?”

Jason nodded, “I understand.”

Batman didn’t reply. Instead, he pressed hard on the pedal and rocketed down the avenue. 

_Hold on, Dick. We’re coming._

——-

Dick involuntarily tensed as the van slowed, breaks whining slightly as gravel crunched beneath the tires. 

“You got something in that bag to knock him down again, Doc?”

“Why?” Sivana prodded him as he lay still. He kept his breathing slow and measured. 

_All I have is the element of surprise and I’m about to lose that._

“Because I got the feeling, as soon as we go to move him, he’s going to try and run for it.”

_Fuck. He noticed. So much for the subtle approach._

He listened as a long, unzipping sound, followed by the uncapping of a syringe, heralded more drugs, more sedation. 

_Nope. This isn’t happening again. Not if I have anything to say about it._

As Sivana lowered the needle, Dick rolled abruptly, kicking out and connecting the heel of his foot with the doctors jaw. His head snapped back and he crumpled to the blood stained carpeting beneath him. 

“Shit!” Joseph was up in an instant, hand on his taser, and he crouched into the back. 

Dick somersaulted to his feet, keeping his body low and tight in the cramped space. 

_Oh, hell. Still reeeeally dizzy._

He blinked, trying to keep focus, disoriented after the tuck and roll. Everything blurred and clouded, and he took a deep breath, waiting for it to clear. 

The moment of hesitation cost him, and Joseph lunged forward, tackling him and slamming him against the back doors of the van. They opened with the force, and the two men tumbled out onto the dirt and rocks outside. 

Between the blood loss and the blow to his back, he was at a disadvantage - one that Joseph intended to exploit. Once again, his large, thick hands found Dick’s throat and pressed down. 

“Don’t fight this, hero. Don’t want you to die before you see your new room. I’ve got it all set up, just for you.” Joseph was laughing, maniacal and terrifying. 

The sound echoed in Dick’s ears as the world went black, in spite of the encroaching dawn. 

——-

The Batmobile rolled to a stop less than a mile away from the vans registered address. A long stretch of dirt road meandered through a forest of scrub pines, and morning birds were just beginning their song. Batman and Robin jumped out of the car, and Batman crouched in the shadows of the trees, examining his surrounds. 

_Remote. No other homes nearby. These tire tracks are fresh. We’re close._

He stood and addressed Robin, “We’re heading the rest of the way on foot to give us a chance at a surprise attack. You will be silent. You will not leave my side. You will follow every order to the letter, without hesitation. Is that clear?” 

Robin bobbed his head nervously in understanding. 

“Good,” Batman turned his back and set off into the forest, “Move out.” 

——-

Joseph was still cackling to himself when Dick felt the slap, followed by the pounding headache and sweeping nausea. 

“Good morning!”

He had never seen Joseph like this - almost giddy and light; savoring the victory. He pulled at his wrists, finding them bound to the wall with thick manacles, spread wide. His knees sank into the thin foam of a cot beneath him, a steel bar and irons forcing his legs apart. 

“I did it.” Joseph huffed in satisfaction. “You’re part of my collection now. Welcome home!” 

Blinding light, a camera flash, and then the sound of a Polaroid dispensing. 

“First of many, I hope.” He waved the developing photo in the air, then tacked it on the wall. Dick couldn’t help but gasp in horror. 

Hundreds of pictures papered the room, each labeled with a date and time. Some of him, from Rosewood, bound and screaming, some of others enduring various abuses. Each timeline ended with the victims body, lifeless and broken, and an absurd cartoon face drawn in the white space at the corner, frowning and crying. 

A few of the groupings only had one or two pictures before the last one, with angry red letters at the bottom reading ‘BROKEN!’ Others had dozens, cataloging each day of their torture until they couldn’t hold out any longer. 

“Impressive, isn’t it? But you,” Joseph leaned in and grabbed his face, digging in his fingernails until Dick felt blood trickling down his chin, “You’re the pièce de résistance.”

“I wouldn’t gloat just yet,” Dick warned, “I don’t plan on staying long.” 

Joseph tightened his expression and his fist, landing blow after enraged blow without warning, until Dick sagged down, spitting blood onto the floor. 

“You can leave after I decide to let you die! Not a minute before!” 

Breathing heavily, Joseph snatched up the camera and took another picture, smiling and calming as it developed. He held it up for Dick to see; fresh bruises and blood obscured his face, his arms hung limply to the side. 

He looked defeated already. 

“Yeah,” Joseph licked his lips, “I think I like this one better.” 

He tore the first photo from the wall and put the new one in its place, sighing and nodding in satisfaction, before leaving the room and bolting the door. 

Dick couldn’t tear his gaze away from the wall of polaroids, a sickening, aching sense of familiarity gnawing at him as he focused on the faces of the victims. 

_The case that started all of this. The missing men and boys from Metropolis. Male, dark hair, athletic, 13-24 years old. Twenty seven in total confirmed gone._

He counted quickly. Then again. 

_Twenty-six, not including me. But Patrick Clebb got out. That makes 27. _

Another wave of nausea as the realization of what had happened cemented. 

_It was Alvah from the start. He’s been worming his way into trafficking circles, picking off whoever he wants. He’s not just an enforcer with a fetish, he’s a goddamned serial killer. I should have put this together sooner._

He exhaled sharply, doing his best to bury his panic. 

“Really hoping your on my tail, Bruce.”


	12. Under

Minutes. It was only minutes before Joseph returned. 

“Think you might’ve killed the doc,” he began, closing the door behind him, “he’s still out. You better hope he comes to - he’s the only medical care you’re gonna get, here.” 

Dick scoffed, “Why bother?” He nodded his head to the wall of photos, “You’re just going to kill me eventually, anyway. Right? Like them?” 

Pulling up a chair and sighing, Joseph sat, just inches away from Dick’s battered face, “Let me explain how this works, since you haven’t figured it out, yet. You are here, and you are mine. It can be rough or it can be easy. If I grow to like you, and to trust you, then I could do special things for you; good food, more freedom. If not... ” He shrugged, then grabbed a handful of dark hair, wrenching Dick’s head back. 

In response, he hissed, unable to pull away as Joseph looped a leather collar and chain around his neck, then attached it to the metal frame of the cot. With a warning look, the man grabbed one of Dick’s wrists and unshackled it briefly, counting on the other restraints to hold. Dick wrenched his arm away and swung wildly at his captor, missing and cursing as a taser shock jolted into his chest. Joseph worked quickly to complete his task, pulling and adjusting so Dick’s hands were behind his back. 

With a smile and a contented sigh, Joseph leaned in close and trailed a tongue along Dick’s jaw, ending with a whisper in his ear. “There. Beautiful.”

Recoiling against his bonds, Dick tried to put some distance between himself the wet, lascivious kisses leaving bruises around the collar, but Joseph’s hand again found a hank of hair and held fast. 

“Don't try to fight me, or you'll just get more of what you had earlier. More pain, more humiliation. You see, hero, what you got now is nothing compared to what you can have. Good or bad. I can make you love being here. Or I can make every second agony.”

He released his grip and slid his chair back. He reached over pulled a small notebook out of a drawer in a small table pushed against a dark corner jotted some notes in it, and slid it back into its home. “For posterity.” He smiled, or was it _sneered_? 

_There is no way something that creepy can be a smile._

Dick shook his head as much as the collar allowed. “You have to know I’ll never go along with this. You can’t be _that_ insane.”

Without warning, Joseph’s expression melted from congenial to enraged. 

“I am _not_ insane!” He screamed, spit flying with each syllable. 

He grabbed Dick’s throat with one hand, and with the other unbuckled his belt; gulping down air and trying to regain control. 

“Looks like you chose ‘rough’, hero. You’re going to regret that.”

——-

The small cabin was just visible through the underbrush when Batman heard it; a faint but unmistakable scream. 

_Dick..._

Then another. And another as they stalked past the empty van and to the door. Louder, but still muffled, when Batman pushed open into the dusty interior. 

_Under. He’s under the floor._

“Look for access to a sub level,” he whispered to Robin between the waning cries of pain beneath them, “now.”

The one-room cabin was small, with limited furnishings. There were no obvious doors that would lead to a basement. Robin pressed his ear to the floor boards as Batman began to rip away the sparsely laid rugs, searching for a trap door. 

_I’ll tear this place to the ground if I have to._

They could hear him clearly now with the fabric and padding pulled back. Just below the hardwood, senselessly crying out in Romani, _“‘Chavaia! O Del, ‘chavaia!” _

The last word echoed, then died. And the screams stopped. 

Robin stood abruptly, trembling, “Someone’s coming.” 

They tucked into the shadows as heavy boots pounded up wooden stairs. 

“Goddamnit!” A call from behind the panel walls, “You better be awake, Doc, I think I broke him again!” 

A soft ‘click’, and a small section of shelving swung open, revealing a secret door, with Joseph framed in the dim light behind it. 

“Ah, fuck.” His eyes focused on the figures in the dark and he grasped for his holstered gun; too slow. Batman lunged forward, guided more by instinct and rage than precision and training. 

The two men dropped to the floor, and Batman drew back his fist, prepared to land a devastating blow. Groping, Joseph grabbed a handful of ash from the cold fireplace and flicked it into Batman’s face, giving him enough hesitation and space to roll away. He snatched up a lit oil lantern and held it aloft. 

“If I can’t have him, no one can,” he growled, smashing the glass to the floor in front of the hidden staircase. Immediately, the old wooden slats and panels were alight, crackling as the flames licked into the pools of spilt fuel. 

Batman charged forward again, calling out to Robin, “Get Dick. Now! Go!” 

With a nod, Robin covered his face with his cape, then pushed through the growing fire and out of sight. 

Relentless, Batman’s fist made contact with Joseph’s head. Then his jaw. The man dropped to the floor, groaning and scrabbling to crawl away. 

“It’s over Alvah. You lost! You’ll rot in a jail cell the rest of your life.” Batman bellowed. 

The low, maniacal chuckle was almost lost in the sound of popping wood. The fire had spread quickly across the oak floor and up the walls, charring the ceiling and melting the cheap furniture. 

“You’re right about one thing, Bats” he coughed, smoke filling the room, “It _is_ over.”

Before Batman could reach out and drag him away, Joseph lunged into the flames, screaming and writhing for only a moment before his blackening body was finally still. 

There was no time to dwell. Above the growing roar, he could hear Robin yelling, indistinct but frantic. He, too, used his cape as a shield and dove through the doorway. 

Down the creaking, narrow stairs. Into a small, damp room at the back. If the air wasn’t so thick with smoke, he would have screamed. 

Slumped over, bound, bruised and bleeding...

_Dick..._

“I... I can’t...” Jason coughed and choked on sobs, “I can’t get the chains off. I can’t... He’s not waking up.”

Above them, the ceiling groaned and buckled. Batman reached into his belt and pulled out sharp pliers, bending the metal links and loops keeping his son trapped, face down, on a blood-soaked cot. 

He couldn’t be careful. There wasn’t time. He couldn’t focus on the fact that Dick didn’t whimper or groan as he lifted him, rough gloves brushing over deep lacerations and dark electrical burns. Couldn’t focus on the fact that there was no resistance in his muscles as he heaved him over his shoulders and carried him upstairs. Couldn’t focus on the fact that Dick _wasn’t _gasping and wheezing in the thick, smoldering air. 

Couldn’t focus on anything but getting out before the whole damn building collapsed around them. 

Outside, as he greedily gulped down one fresh breath after another, Batman tenderly, slowly, lowered Dick onto the warm, soft grass. 

“Come on, chum,” he was stern, rhythmically leaning into his chest, furiously trying to get Dick’s heart beating again.

“Bruce...” Jason moved close, shaking his head, “He’s... he’s not...”

“No!” Batman shouted angrily. “No! I won’t lose!” He paused briefly, cupping his mouth over Dick’s bruised lips and blowing in a rescue breath before resuming compressions. 

_I can’t lose... him. _


	13. Back

_I am so, so sorry. I failed. _

_He won. I lost. _

_All those people, murdered. _

_And now, I’m dead, too._

“No, you’re not.”

_I know that voice_

“Of course you do, chum.”

“Bruce?”

He finally felt his lips moving, his throat creaking and making the sounds. He wasn’t dead. Almost, but not quite. He tried to take a large, full breath, but his chest screamed at him with the effort, so he settled for short bursts.

He opened one eye just a slit, and then the other. Large trees towered over him, tops brushing a smoky sky. Batman leaned into his view, chin and cowl covered in soot.

_Is he...smiling?_

To the side, he heard gulping, hitching sobs and sniffles. Slowly, (_Why is everything so slow?_) he slid his eyes in the direction of the noise. Robin was looking away, eyes fixed pointedly anywhere _but_ Dick’s face.

“Y’ok, Jay?”

The boy nodded, angrily wiping away tears that spilled out over his mask.

He tried to roll over, but firm pressure on his shoulders kept him on his back. “Don’t move. Not yet.”

He was too exhausted, too weak to argue. He blinked his eyes heavily as the forest began to spin around him.

“D’we get ‘em?” he slurred.

“Don’t talk,” Batman’s smile faded into a thin concerned frown as he pulled off an armored glove, then pressed two fingers against his neck.

_Something’s not right. Doesn’t feel right..._

“Robin, bring the car. He needs a hospital. Now.”

Batman tore off his cape and bundled it up, stuffing it under Dick’s knees. “You need to stay with me...”

He tried. He really did. Tried to focus on Bruce’s breath, now shaky, at the edge of panic. Tried to listen to the sound of Jason’s feet sprinting away. Tried to...

But then it all faded away.

——-

_’Precarious.’_

Several doctors had circled back to some variation of the word.

At the rural hospital, 20 minutes from the charred remains of Alvah’s house, they had avoided direct answers about the ‘John Doe’ brought in by Batman and Robin, simply calling him, ‘delicate’.

A transfer to a secure trauma unit at S.T.A.R. Labs in New York did little to change the situation. With the pretense of anonymity dropped, doctors there had been more blunt, more open with the Batman about his oldest partner.

‘Touch and go.’

‘Wait and see.’

‘Minute by minute.’

‘Precarious’.

As he stood, hovering over the too-still form of his protégé, he lingered on the word, imagining Dick grappling for balance over an impossible abyss. It seemed absurd.

_As if Dick would ever struggle to find his equilibrium. Sure-footed. Strong._

_Not ‘delicate.’_

The juxtaposition was dizzying. But then, was it any wonder? That he was alive at all could be considered a miracle, if Batman believed in such things.

All he could believe in was the feeling of empty, impotent rage. Alvah was dead. Sivana had escaped. Again. There was no justice here.

Only a frail looking man where his _son_ had been. The son he nearly failed to death. The son, now languishing in purgatory because of his inaction, his distrust.

The son, subjected to the most unspeakable, most heinous of human fantasies, because he refused to believe him.

Once Dick was stable, and things were more ‘touch’ and less ‘go’, Batman returned to the smoldering ruin that had been the home to those fantasies. While the logs and boards were reduced to ash, the stone and dirt cellar was left largely intact, and he found himself staring blankly at a wall of half-melted photographs.

Victims.

_So many._

Carefully, he pulled down the photos of Dick, of _Nightwing_. There could be no trace of the vigilante’s presence when Batman called the police to process the scene. So much still remained to be protected.

Tucked inside a metal filing cabinet, he found dozens of moleskin notebooks, filled with hastily jotted notes and sketches. He plucked off the top two, both labeled ‘Hero’, then grabbed the stack of polaroids before disappearing into the coming dusk, watching from the shadows in the forest as the CSI teams arrived.

——-

As the days dragged on, the ‘family’ took bedside shifts.

First Kory, who combed her fingers through Dick’s hair and softly sang Okaraan war-ballads. Hers was a constant presence - she only left for a shower and food before returning again.

Jason came too, though he sat silently in the corner of the room, perfunctorily present, dazed as he stared at his pale brother in the bed.

Alfred made his rounds, with dramatic readings of Shakespeare and gentle hands that were eager to help the nurses with their tasks.

Even Barbara came, though she never entered the room. She simply sat outside, eyes fixed through the glass doors, quietly whispering what she hoped would not be her last goodbyes.

Batman never left. Gotham could be burning to the ground and he wouldn’t leave.

_I won’t fail him again._

Each passing hour brought only marginal changes. A whimper during an IV change. Eyes fluttering as burns were debrided and redressed. Inscrutable lab values they were told were ‘improving’.

But it was Kory who finally worked up the courage to ask the question no one was sure they wanted answered. As a doctor swung a penlight in front of Dick’s eyes, pinched his skin, tested reflexes, she sucked in a deep breath, “Will he come back to us? Is there a chance he will be ok?”

Batman leaned forward, trying to see past the sympathetic look in the doctors eyes, searching for truth as he answered, “We don’t know. I’m sorry. The blood loss and internal injuries were extensive. Only time will tell if his brain could cope with the lack of oxygen. But he’s strong and getting the best possible care. There is every reason to have faith.”

_But I am not a man of faith,_ Batman thought wryly.

——-

It was nearly a week before Batman went home, at Alfred’s insistence. Though his reluctant respite was well timed; more friends had begun trickling in, whispering favorite memories and final farewells. It was close to unbearable.

_He can’t die. I won’t lose him._

He was supposed to rest. But the thought of facing everything as just _Bruce_ was nearly unbearable, too, so he skirted Alfred’s ministrations and headed to the ‘cave. Sighing, he sank into the chair in front of the computer and dropped his head to his hands.

“When the fuck were you going to tell me?” Jason’s furious voice echoed behind him.

He swiveled to meet the boys enraged gaze and was horrified to find him holding out Alvah’s journals, shaking them angrily.

He didn’t give Bruce a chance to respond. “They’re fucking monsters. When were you going to tell me what they did to him, huh? At least Alvah sent himself straight to Hell but Sivana is still out there. And we’re all just sitting around playing nursemaid?”

Bruce stood, in no mood to handle a temper, “You need to calm down, Jason. The police...”

“Fuck the police! Sivana is out there, walking free _again_, while Dick is...” he sucked a hot breath through his teeth, “It’s not right, Bruce. And if you won’t take care of it, I will.”

“Now is not the time. We will get justice...”

“How? By sending him to jail? Where he can recruit _another_ psycho like Joseph Alvah, then to break out and start this nightmare all over again? I _will_ end this. With or without you.”

“Do you really think Dick would want you to become a murderer on his behalf?” Bruce wasn’t even going to try and misinterpret Jason’s intentions.

“I don’t know _what_ he thinks, if anything. He’s in a fucking _coma_ because of what these freaks did to him. Sivana’s finished. I’m done playing your game, Bruce.” He turned on his heel, throwing his hands in the air and storming away.

“Jason,” Bruce warned, “This conversation is not over. Do _not_ walk away from me.”

But Jason didn’t answer. He just slung a leg over his motorcycle and tore out of the ‘cave.


	14. Amends

Disgusted. Horrified. _Angry_. 

Though maybe anger wasn’t a strong enough word for what Jason felt as he flipped through the pages detailing Joseph Alvah’s destruction of his brother. 

Rage? Maybe. Rage with each graphic sketch, each lengthy entry, recounting vividly each bruise, each cut. 

Each scream. Each _violation_.

But even ‘rage’ felt inadequate. He felt like his throat was on fire with the emotion, and out of the smoke, one thing became very clear. 

Someone would pay for this. 

He would not let Dick die while monsters like _that_ roamed free. 

Compounding the wrath was an undercurrent of betrayal - Bruce _knew_. He knew what Alvah and Sivana were over a year ago. He _knew_ and did nothing to protect Dick, or anyone else they had preyed on. 

He was surprised Bruce didn’t follow him after his outburst in the cave. Part of him wanted to take it as tacit approval of what he intended to do. 

But he knew better - Bruce was too exhausted, too worried to give chase. And maybe that would be alright. As long as nobody got between him and Sivana’s bare throat. 

Because there is no _justice_ for rapists and torturers. Only vengeance. 

He didn’t remember the drive to New York, or even why he was drawn there. The truth was he had no idea where Sivana had disappeared to, and two hours of seething wrath had done nothing but burn a hole in his heart. 

_I should tell Dick. Tell him that I won’t let anyone else be hurt by that sick son of a bitch._

And so he found himself in the basement garage of S.T.A.R. Labs, going through the layers of automated security to access the elevator that would take him to his brother’s bedside. 

He was surprised to find Dick alone. Someone else had always been here when he had come to visit - usually Kory, but sometimes Alfred, or old Titans friends. 

He was grateful for the solitude. There was no need for an audience. He dragged a chair across the tile and Dick’s eyes fluttered. That wasn’t new. The doctors had said something about “varying degrees of stimulus response” and “brain stem reflexes”. They did their best to manage expectations. Which was unnecessary for Jason because he already knew what they wouldn’t ever say. He could see it when he looked into those half-open blue eyes and saw no fire, no life. 

Dick was gone. He was sure of it. 

So he didn’t take note of the sigh when he slipped his fingers into Dick’s warm hand. Didn’t acknowledge the whisper of a smile at Dick’s lips when he started to speak.

“Look, I’m not great with words. You know that.” Jason felt awkward, silly.

_Why am I here? Dick’s gone, isn’t he? Where’s the sense in talking to a corpse that nobody seemed willing to let go of?_

“Or maybe you don’t. It’s not like we’ve known each other that long. But somehow, the minute I saw you, I felt like you were my brother. My family. More than anyone else in my life.”

He sighed, not realizing the truth in all of that until this moment. He shut his eyes tight and continued. 

“That’s why I have to do this. Why I needed to tell you, even if you can’t understand. I can’t let Sivana live - not while good people like you die. It’s not fair. And life’s been unfair enough to both of us already. He’s dead, Dickie. I promise. Nobody else will go through _this_ again.”

Then he felt it. 

A _squeeze_. 

His fingertips pressed into Dick’s palm. 

Jason’s eyes flew open, stunned to see a spark of concern, of _anger_ flicker and fade in Dick’s gaze. 

_He’s here. _

_He’s still here!_

And then the moment was gone. Hands and eyes were again limp and lifeless. 

_Dick clawed his way to the surface for me. To tell me...what?_

_“Do you really think Dick would want you to become a murderer on his behalf?” Bruce had asked. _

_Maybe this is my answer. _

“What do you intend to do, Jason?”

Startled, he tore his focus away from Dick’s face and over to the door where Kory stood, imposing with her shoulders back and arms crossed. 

“I’m going to kill Sivana. Because _when_ Dick comes back to us, I don’t _ever_ want his nightmares to become real again.” 

For a long time she said nothing, green eyes shifting between the brothers, deliberating, considering, before locking onto Jason. 

“Does Bruce approve of this?” 

Jason snorted derisively, “what do you think?” 

“Then, may X’hal bless your endeavors. For I fear only a goddess can stand against the will of the Batman.” 

——-

_Drowning. _

_I’m drowning. _

_No, that’s not quite right, is it? Because I’m breathing. _

_I’m breathing? _

_But waves keep crashing into me, pushing me below the surface. _

_Lights. And voices. I can hear voices. Where am I?_

_I need to move. Need to fight. _

_Why can’t I fight? _

_Jason? Jason you’re here?_

_Can you hear me? You look so sad, so tired. _

_“I can’t let Sivana live, not while good people like you die.” _

_Jason, no. No! _

_Another wave, and I’m pushed under again. Away. _

_Please, don’t, Jason. _

_He isn’t worth it. _

_You don’t know what you’ll lose. _

__

——-

For the first time in a week, Jason felt hopeful. Filled with purpose. Dick was still fighting. The next steps were clear. 

_Sivana is as good as dead. Now, where’s that fucking freak hiding?_

Down the elevator, out of the garage, his ‘cycle rocketed out onto the streets. 

_Retrace your steps. The factory, Sivana’s last ‘lab’. The clues will be there. They have to be._

He wound his way through traffic, past Dick’s apartment, deeper into the seedy areas of the city. He idled in front of the processing plant. It looked menacing, even in daylight. 

_Can’t chicken out now._

Finding a broken window, he slipped inside and clicked on a flashlight, illuminating the dim interior. The place looked like it had been untouched. He quickly found the pool of Dick’s blood, now just a thick, dry stain on cement and metal, then worked backwards, making his way to the improvised “lab”. 

But someone _had_ been back. This room was stripped bare - no surgical supplies, no oxygen tanks, no scribbled notes. Just an overturned table against the tile wall. 

“Did you really think I hadn’t already checked here, Jason? Do you think I’m not overwhelmed with the urge for revenge, too?”

_Batman. Fuck. He got here fast. _

“Then why don’t you take it? Weren’t you the one that told me ‘emotion without action is irrelevant’? Why aren’t we tracking this psycho down _together_? For Dick?” Jason balled up his fists and faced the towering shadow behind him. 

“That’s not how this works, Jason. Even Dick knows that...” Batman hesitated, moving closer, “Did you know he nearly beat Alvah to death? After Rosewood? But he stopped. after everything he’d endured, he still knew the difference between justice and vengeance.”

Jason rolled his eyes, scoffing, “Really? Because that’s not how Alvah told it. He wrote down every single thing that happened. He said _you_ made Dick stop. Begged him to step away. Called him by his _name_ for Christ’s sake. You’re the _whole_ reason he’s half dead in a hospital, now!” 

Batman recoiled like he’d been punched. 

_Damnit. Took it too far. _

“I know that, Jason.” Batman’s voice sounded like he was being strangled, “I know. But I will _not_ let you kill.”

Silence. An impasse. 

The shrill pinging of a cell notification broke the building tension. Jason pulled out his phone and read the text:

_”He’s awake.” _


	15. Anchor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a short chapter this time. More to come!

Jason’s eyes widened and the blue light of his phone illuminated his face. Batman watched as the boy released a long-held sigh, lips cocked up in a half smile. He looked...relieved. 

Jason glanced up at his mentor, badly hiding the growing grin. “He’s back! Kory just texted - he’s awake.” He tucked the phone away and started to leave. 

“Jason. Wait.” Batman held him in place by the shoulder, ignoring the impatient scowl. “I will not stop until Sivana answers for what he did. Not just to Dick, but to all of his victims. I want your help, but we do this _my_ way, or not at all. Understood?”

Jason pushed away the gloved hand and scoffed, “_Your_ way doesn’t work with monsters like Sivana. But whatever. I’m not fighting with you right now. Dick needs us.”

As Jason stalked out of the room, his footfalls echoing angrily as they receded, Oracle’s voice chirped in Batman’s ear. 

“You there, B? Got some news.”

“I heard. He’s awake.”

Barbara inhaled suddenly, “Oh! I didn’t know that. That’s... that’s great! No... it’s Sivana. Our CCTV scanners picked up a match. He’s in Baltimore, got in a vehicle headed north, towards...”

“Rosewood.” Batman growled the word. 

_Sivana is cleaning out his old labs. Collecting supplies, notes, anything that’s left. It’s only a matter of time before he starts gathering more subjects. I can’t let that happen..._

_But he’s awake..._

“Call in a tip to the police, Oracle. Let them handle it.”

“What?” Her quizzical expression was nearly _audible_. “He’ll slip them again, Batman. You know that.”

“The only thing I know right now is that my _son_ needs me. And I won’t let him down.”

_Not again_

——-

“I thought you said he was awake? What happened?” Jason peered through the glass doors into Dick’s room. Little had changed in the hour he had been gone. 

“He _was_. But he was...agitated. We couldn’t convince him that the danger had passed. A nurse tried to restrain him and, well...” Kory nodded her head in the direction of a young man in red-stained scrubs applying pressure to his steadily bleeding nose. “They had to sedate him.” 

“Wait...” there _was_ something different, and Jason felt sick when he noticed it, “Do they have him tied to the bed? Are they _insane_? After what he’s been through...”

“They were concerned he would hurt himself. He was very insistent on leaving.” Kory’s gaze dropped to the floor, blinking back tears, “I couldn’t soothe him... he didn’t recognize me. The doctors say it’s temporary. That it is normal for someone to be distressed and confused as they become more alert...”

She didn’t finish the thought. Instead, she looked back up at Jason and asked, “Did you tell Bruce? Is he coming?”

He shrugged. “Told him. Thought he was right behind me.” 

Batman stepped forward, sparing a glance at Jason before fixing his inscrutable gaze through the glass. 

“I am.” 

He reached a gloved hand out and began to pull the door open. A nurse noticed and rushed over, tugging it from his hands and closing it again. 

“The doctor wants to give him time to rest. No visitors, I’m afraid. He’s very fragile right now...”

Slowly, menacingly, Batman faced the nurse and snarled, “My son is _not_ fragile.” Then he opened the door anyway, and went inside. 

Jason and Kory exchanged wide-eyed glances and followed, as Jason muttered, “Hope you know what you’re doing, B.”

Cautiously, Batman approached the hospital bed, and Jason suppressed a wince when he saw the restraints up close. Dick looked so different, now. There was tension in his face, and every muscle seemed to sit on the edge of action. His hair, usually neatly coiffed each day by Alfred, was disheveled and plastered to his forehead with sweat. Batman reached up and dropped his cowl back, then tentatively took his son’s hand. 

“Dick. It’s Bruce. You’re safe. 

Blue eyes flew open, filled with terror and rage. Dick tried to pull his hand away, and was startled by the soft leather bands around his wrists. 

“Nnn...” He tugged harder, tears spilling over as it became clear there was no escape. “No. Don’t. Please.” His chest heaved with terrified breaths, and monitors started beeping, alerting the nurse at the station outside the room. She shot a warning look at the unwelcome guests. 

“Shhh...” Bruce pulled off his glove, then gently pushed Dick’s hair back from his forehead, out of his eyes. “I won’t let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

——-

_He doesn’t recognize me. Sees me as a threat. He’s so afraid..._

_But he is in there. I can see it. He’s fighting his way back, begging for someone to throw him a line..._

Bruce stepped closer, dropping his voice to a whisper, “you were hurt. You’re in the hospital, now. Do you remember...” he drew in a deep breath, “You used to have nightmares. As a boy. You taught me a song, one your father used to sing. It always helped you get back to sleep. Do you remember it?”

No response, but Dick’s breathing slowed, and he stopped writhing against his bonds. So Bruce began singing tunelessly, “_Voliv tut ages, Voliv tut tehara..._”

“_Voliv tut mai but Desar mai anglal_**” Dick’s voice, shaky and grating, finished the verse. 

“There you are...” Bruce smiled through tears. “Welcome back.”

** Traditional Romani Song, “I love you today,  
I’ll love you tomorrow, I’ll love you much more,Than ever before”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go! I cannot thank all of my readers enough! Finishing this trilogy has been a heck of a ride and I am so grateful for all the love and feedback. This has been an incredibly healing experience for me, and I hope it has been enjoyable for you!


	16. Normal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can’t thank everyone enough. Readers, reviewers, everyone. You took a personal journey with me and I am so glad you came with me.

“Goddamnit!” 

Rehabilitation was _not_ going well. At least not according to Dick. Everyone else thought he was doing swimmingly. 

“I know you’re frustrated, but you’ve made so much progress!” Kory was trying to be encouraging, but it came across as patronizing. And _that_ was embarrassing. 

“I can’t write my _name_ Kor. I’d hardly call that _progress_.”

“Yesterday you couldn’t hold a pencil. The day before that you didn’t know what a pencil was even called. It _is_ progress. Just... slow and steady.”

The nursery rhyme reference made him feel like a child. 

_I guess its fitting, though. I **am** throwing a temper tantrum._

He knew he should be enjoying this time with Kory. She couldn’t make the trek from New York to Gotham often - Dick had insisted she continue working. She enjoyed the creative outlet, after all, and he wouldn’t dare rob her of that, too. So she came to the manor when she could, and invariably Dick was engaged in some therapy or other. 

But so far it had been a week of grueling mundanity. 

_Hold a pencil. _

_Add 8+8. _

_Identify the animal. _

_Walk up the steps. _

_Get dressed without help._

And if he were honest, _that_ progress was steady. The cadre of therapists that made their rounds said he had already accomplished months worth of work in just a few days. 

But the _other_ recovery... the one that meant he might be able to sleep more than an hour at a time, or still his heart at any unexpected voice above a whisper...

Sometimes he feared _those_ scars would haunt him until he died. 

Worst of all, he couldn’t bear to be touched. The one thing that always felt like an anchor to him, a release, was gone. A reassuring hand on his shoulder burned like acid, a hug felt like he was suffocating. And physical therapy usually meant many strange, inescapable hands on his body - it was all he could do to get out of bed, knowing the threat of contact was always looming. 

But _that,_ he would never admit. So he buried a flinch with each of Kory’s snuggles, and bit his lip to stay in the _now_ if Bruce ruffled his hair. 

Because they could never know just how destroyed he really was. 

——-

Bruce watched from the hallway as Dick swore and threw his hands in the air, exasperated. He’d been doing a lot of watching from the sidelines, recently. He hated it. The powerlessness. Dick was struggling and there was nothing he could do but wait and see. 

To make matters worse, Jason was becoming more belligerent. The boy was baying for blood, and it had taken a heroic effort to keep him from hunting Sivana down when he inevitably slipped out of the hands of the FBI. Again. 

Though, Dick had done the heavy lifting there, disarming Jason with his signature humor and compassion. 

_”Listen, Jaybird. One day soon I’ll remember how to do long division again, and I will be unstoppable. Then we can go after him. Together. And give the victims families closure. They can’t have that if you chuck Sivana off a cliff. And they deserve a chance to tell him to his face what a monster he is.”_

Jason had rolled his eyes at the nickname, and scoffed at the sentiment, but his fire cooled. Though he still glared at Bruce whenever they were in the same room. 

_Reminding me of my failures. _

“I am sure you would be more than welcome to assist Miss Anders. You needn’t lurk in doorways, sir.” Alfred passed by Bruce headed into the room with a tray full of sandwiches, waiting on the threshold for a response. 

Bruce only shook his head, and Alfred sighed. “Very well, sir.” 

If he were honest with himself, there was something _off_ about Dick. Something intangible. As if there was someone else in the room, _pretending_ to be his son. He wondered just how much Dick was struggling to keep buried, for the sake of the family, and worried what would happen when he inevitably lost that battle. 

——-

Late. Or early. Dick wasn’t sure of where the line was - though keeping off hours was part of “the life”. 

_A life I’ll probably never get to live again. _

He couldn’t imagine being Nightwing again. He felt too weak, too muddled, to be anything useful. Like he was cursed to live as a shadow of who he used to be. 

Alfred was asleep, Bruce and Jason were on patrol, so Dick snuck down to the ‘cave, desperate to find some ‘normal’ down there. Or was it because he was afraid of his own bed? 

He slowly crept down each step, carefully finding his footing on each stair. Still, he missed the last one, bruising his ego as he fell on his ass. 

“You ok there, short pants? Need a hand?”

Barbara moved away from the computer over to him, looking at him critically. 

“I’m good. Just figured I’d never seen the cave from this angle. Thought I’d give it a try.” Slowly, hiding the pain, he pulled himself to his feet and brushed himself off. “What are you doing here? Everything ok?”

“Oh yea.” She chuckled. Embarrassed. “I saw a rat at my place. I don’t do rats.”

“So you left a high rise fortress and came to a _cave._. To avoid rodents?” Dick tutted in mock concern, “I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?” 

“I _am_” she teased. “I’ll have you know bats are _not_ rodents.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” he huffed, “I called a zebra a ‘stripey donkey-thing’ the other day, so I’m no animal expert.” 

It was meant as a joke, but she didn’t laugh. Instead, she knitted her brow and sighed, “How is everything going? I know rehab therapy can be... a lot.” 

“Just counting the days ‘till I’m back to normal” he quipped. It was weak, and he knew it. 

As always, Barbara saw through the plastered-on charm, “You’re going to be counting for a long time, Grayson. Because there is no ‘back to normal’. Not after something like this. Believe me,” she tapped the arm of her wheelchair, “I know.” 

He shrugged, “That’s _different_”

“How? You mean because I was raped and tortured? Or because I was in a coma? That all seems pretty familiar...” she was being blunt. Brutal. “Or do you just mean the chair makes it obvious and I can’t even try to fake that I’m ok, like you can?”

Wide-eyed and bewildered, he opened his mouth to speak, but didn’t know what to say. He settled on, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Barbara softened, “I know you didn’t. But I don’t think anyone is being _realistic_ with you. Physically, mentally? I have no doubt you will be as good as new in six months. Or less. You’re working your ass off. But emotionally? Are you seeing a therapist? Doing anything other than trying to pretend it didn’t happen?”

“No.” Dick hung his head. “I can’t, Babs. I can’t just... I’d have to lie too much, hide too much. I still have to protect identities and secrets...”

To his surprise, Barbara rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone. “There. I texted you a number. My therapist. Fully vetted and everything. She’s good. You can trust her. No excuses now?”

Dick shook his head, “If there is no ‘back to normal’, why bother?” 

“It isn’t the ‘normal’ that’s impossible. It’s the ‘back’. You can’t be the person you were before everything. Truth be told, the old Dick Grayson probably died at Rosewood. And you’ve been pretending to be him really well for a long time. But you can’t anymore.” She reached out and let him take her hand as tears spilled down his cheeks, “You have to get to know who you are _now_. Find out what’s normal for him. Maybe he’s not as much of a hugger, more contemplative, less witty. That’s fine. I’m sure he’s got some good qualities, too.” 

“And what if he’s not strong enough?” Dick was trembling now, terrified. He felt like he was on the edge of a cliff with no line, nothing between him and an ever enticing free-fall. 

“He is,” she replied, “Because he is _you_, and you’ve already proven that you’re a survivor.” 

An awkward silence settled between them, like it always seemed to, now. Dick drew in an unsteady breath, “I never apologized to you. For being reckless, for thinking of you _last_. I ruined _us_. And I’m sorry. Because you are one of my best friends, and I should have given you the benefit of the doubt.”

“No,” she shook her head decisively, “Don’t do that. There were many reasons _we_ didn’t work, most of which are my fault. But I see you with Kory and... you seem happier. Even with everything else. You two fit. And I’m glad.”

“Thanks, Babs. For everything.” He offered a weak smile. 

“Anytime, bird boy. Now try and get some sleep. I have work to do. And call the therapist. I mean it. Sooner the better.” 

Nodding, he turned and slowly climbed back up the stairs and out of the cave, up to his room, where the bed just seemed like a bed, and the darkness didn’t seem quite so menacing. As he slid into the sheets he recognized a new feeling growing in his chest. 

_Hope._

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I love comments and Kudos! Please feel free to ask questions, love or hate, Ill take it all!


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